What it takes
by yeyavailability
Summary: Malik wants to accomplish a task no one ever has before: melting Bakura's heart. [This fic is a one shot and is not for real. Contains MB and slight YMR.]


So tomorrow's the dreaded end of summer weekend, where school begins. Well shit. I'm going to type some crap to celebrate my misery, and perhaps excel in English class (yeah right).

And yey first fic. Give this poor new author a review, because I really want to feel good – I mean, I really want to know what I'm doing right or wrong. So yeah. Whoo, or something.

Dedicated unnecessarily to MikoAlchemist, who…actually didn't do anything to deserve it. If you're reading this, mentioned person, then I shall tell you that while reading fanfictions to catch up on the character naming, I realized my lust was for Florence, not Kaibaman. I'm still in love with his name, though.

* * *

He was ready.

Not only was he so ready, but he was also drop dead gorgeous; after he awoke sometimes, in places unfamiliar, he'd found dead bodies lying next to him, some partially unclothed. With the ego boast in mind, he set off to his quest.

There was no way Bakura could resist him, he thought as he burst through the door.

_I'm going to melt his heart, once and for all_.

-

"I don't have a heart." A pause. "Ryou does," he added as an afterthought, "sometimes I want to touch it."

"So you're in love with Ryou?!" Malik cried incredulously, and as his heart sank to his stomach he imagined the two screwing in an imaginary closet. He had the sudden impulse to open that closet and grab some popcorn, but realized that he was not supposed to be turned on and brought a disgusted expression onto his face. _I want to cry,_ Malik narrated for himself before letting a wave of sorrow flow over to Bakura, hoping to trigger some sort of guilt. Everyone had some, right? A heart-wrenching frown appeared for added effect.

Bakura's own expression was a mixture of horror, disgust…_shock, indecision…_Malik searched, trying to see deeper into those beautiful chocolate orbs but actually only seeing brown. He tried harder, squinting.

Before he could really decipher anything, though, Bakura's expression changed completely. He seemed to relax, in a not-really kind of way. Malik didn't buy it either, but he probably hadn't noticed it at all, too busy admiring the vision before him.

"You can't guilt trip someone who will only laugh at your pain," Bakura declared, and it took Malik a moment to remember what they were talking about. Bakura and his big mouth, ruining the mood…mm, his mouth –

Hey wait a second.

"Are you laughing at me?" Malik asked, not too sure he really wanted to know. Bakura seemed to sense this and therefore answered by smirking, then nodding while he laughed like the madman he is. Although he looked pretty idiotic doing that, to Malik it was the true image of god. He never knew males can multitask, not that _well_, and _defin__itely_ not look that sexy while doing it. Just the way he threw his head back, exposing his throat…Malik licked his lips before realizing he was supposed to be disappointed, and fell right into a pit of self-loathing.

"You are foolish to _like_ me," Bakura started after his laughing fit ended, suddenly feeling very much like he wanted to look at his nails and preen. He stopped in midst of it immediately after realizing he had done so, reluctantly reluctant to continue speaking. "Why do you, anyways?"

Malik looked up sharply at that. "Why?" he repeated, incredulous, "_Why?!_" He broke into a laughing fit, sounding not very happy at all as he continued. "Bakura," he started, just barely restraining himself to add a quiet 'dear', "you have the most _beautiful_ voice, the sexiest accent; gorgeous, shinning eyes, milky, smooth skin –"

"You're pathetic," Bakura interrupted, snorting, "so much that it's not even funny." He turned to look Malik directly in the eyes, emitting an aura of sexy mysteriousness, vaguely wondering if looking at the nose instead would create a better effect. He waited for Malik to make another pitiable comeback so he could laugh at it.

The Egyptian was speechless; heartbroken. His future lover...thought that he was pathetic? This...

_No!_

His drooping head snapped back up immediately. The voices in his head were right. He shouldn't give up now, not after coming this far...! He would be the one to do it – the one to fulfill the world's one true destiny:

Melt Bakura's heart.

Sadly, the sentence that came out was not nearly as heroic nor determined. His voice wavered the slightest bit as he spoke: "You don't mean that."

He grinned nervously. At least he didn't stutter; Bakura would be proud! Or something.

Said psycho was not that proud. Actually, he was feeling quite the opposite – not that he'd expected any more from Malik, anyways.

"_No_," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes, but when he noticed Malik's hopeful smile he regretted it. To the idiot, saying no probably _meant_ no, and rolling his eyes meant...

_He's looking away, _Malik realized, trying to analyze his reason for doing so. _He's trying to avoid seeing me..._ A burst of hope settled onto his face when he reached his conclusion. _He's guilty!_

He did a little dance inside before planning ways to validate his revelation.

"The rod and the ring were _made_ for each other," he declared dreamily, drawing an invisible circle in the air to prove his point. Though he knew Bakura couldn't see it, he added an equally invisible triangle to the shape combination. "Look," he started, "there's three holes. The rod –"

"I am _not_ a woman," Bakura snapped, his ring glowing dangerously (though through the light, Malik could still see three holes thus rendering his theory correct), "and if anyone's bottoming, it's _you_."

"You want me," Malik concluded, his smile glowing brighter than the ring as it stretched. Bakura grimaced at it.

"I was merely stating an obvious fact." he argued.

"You stabbed your arm for me, you love me!" Malik persisted histerically.

"I did it for your rod," Bakura countered. Malik knew an opening when he heard one.

"So you want me!" he exclaimed, overjoyed.

"You're disgusting," Bakura sneered. Malik _knew_ he was trying to avoid the subject. Him, disgusting? Bakura sure was an amusing one, making a joke such as that one – just more reason to like him.

It was when the glow grew too bright and the conversation got too repetitive that it happened.

Malik gasped.

Staggered backwards.

Tears threatened to fall dramatically.

_"You know,"_ _Bakura__started conversationally, "__I think you're mistaken."_

"It – it's not possible.,." he stuttered, mouth slightly ajar in disbelief.

_"I really don't have a heart."_

"This...it can't be!" he pointed accusingly at the offending offender. "You're _lying!_ I just know you are!" He almost broke down. "You have to be..."

_"Literally."_

"It's true," Bakura said, mock solemnly. He was getting quite bored with this.

_"It's __Ryou's__ features you are in love with," he continued, "__and the ring originally wasn't even mine."_

"No...they're LIES. ALL LIES!" Malik screamed, but Bakura only examined his nails.

Malik fell to his knees with sinking horror. It...it couldn't be. All these sudden revelations...they couldn't be true. Bakura was a professional at this kind of thing...hope filled his heart once again as he came to yet another ingenious conclusion. That's right. All praise the voices in his head!

"You're just scared," Malik proclaimed, and when Bakura's eyes widened in what looked relatively like fear, he knew he had hit jackpot. _Good boy,_ the voices purred, and he glowed with pride. Now all he needed was Bakura's agreement. "You're either denying your want or hiding it."

He felt the need to strike a pose, but held himself down. "However, you need not worry!"

Bakura raised an eyebrow as he narrowed his eyes.

"I like you too! You don't have to feel so lonely anymore! Don't worry about your reputation, I don't mind pretending to be no more than partners in public! But in private..."

He looked up and smiled angelically at Bakura, his grin sliding off his face repeatedly. Being angelic hurt his muscles – but he'll do it for his love! He continued smiling awkwardly as he cornered said love to the wall.

"Don't look so scared," he cooed, more or less like a deranged rapist than a comforting friend, "we love each other!"

When Bakura only shrank uncharacteristically closer to the wall, Malik concluded that he must elaborate further. Thus:

"I," he started, pointing to himself, still smiling creepily. At the lack of response (or scathing insult), he felt that it was right to continue.

"Like."

Ryou stepped away from the wall, still shivering and frowning. "...Bakura." He finished for the other.

Malik stared.

Ryou stared back.

Malik stared at Ryou staring back, in deep shock.

Ryou stared at Malik staring at him staring back in deep shock, then decided against confusing himself any further and examined his nails instead.

"..." said Malik informatively. Bakura, being the only one haughty enough to examine his nails like a total girl, took full control once again and vaguely wondered how Malik was able to pull off saying nothing. Realizing that it was a rather idiotic thing to do anyways (a waste of life and breath), he stopped wondering. A moment of silence passed.

"...Bakura?" Malik asked hopefully, his voice in a high pitched squeak. It was in the form of utmost disrespect to his god, he registered, so he tried again in a normal tone.

"Baku – "

"I heard you the first time," Baku interrupted, and then frowned. Nevertheless, he continued.

"You can't even tell us apart, you're hopeless."

"B-but _no one_ can tell you two apart!" Malik argued desperately. To mistake someone else for his love...oh, how he was guilty!

Bakura was not impressed. "If you supposedly _love_ me, as you say, then you'd at least notice some differences."

Malik couldn't stand it. Though Bakura happened to be a dead, psychotic, very very old madman spirit, his disapproval was like Ra telling him directly he was adopted. He had to fight for his rights! Love. Something. He didn't know what to call it, but he would win.

"You're in Ryou's body, you're not supposed to look any different!" he exclaimed. At Bakura's nodding head, he felt something was amiss, but the concept of being approved was too much.

"Continue," Bakura urged, smiling like Marik would commence face warping. Malik almost squealed before starting his next sentence.

"And, and, your voice! It sounds exactly the same as Ryou's, because it _is_ Ryou's voice! It just sounds a bit rougher when you speak."

"That's correct," Bakura agreed. Malik could fly right now. He did. For a split second, in which he had actually jumped instead, but you understand how he feels!

"Then there's your eyes. It's brown, and all pretty like, and as I mentioned before it's Ryou's body, so it doesn't...!"

Bakura smirked in triumph.

Malik face faulted.

"...Oh Ra," he said, burying his face into his palms.

"Giving up yet?" Bakura asked, a bit of hope and annoyance slipping into his voice. Malik's head snapped up at that. Was this it? Everything he'd tried...all for an ending like this?

"NO!" he bellowed, volume amplified by one particularly psychotic voice...it sounded kind of like his own...

Well shit.

Marik took control, imaginary veins popping magically onto his face. It was probably there just to make him look for like a man when he's being intimidating.

"I," he said, putting large emphasis on his pronoun so that it glowed with a masculine light, "shall give you the rod; but only if you agree to a little _relationship_." He smirked at his sure victory – there was no way Bakura could resist an offer like that! He stabbed his arm for it.

His smug expression melted into shock when Bakura merely snorted. "You're just as pathetic as the original personality," he said, "I want something that you actually _have_, and sadly, you don't have the rod."

Marik took this into consideration, frowning, then frowning deeper when he realized he wasn't supposed to care about what others say. He was supposed to kill them instead.

_NOOOOO_ Malik screamed from the depths of his mind.

_Personalities can't speak to each other!_ Marik scolded hypocritically before returning to the task at hand. Except that he couldn't remember what he was supposed to be doing, so he commenced doing what he thought he was doing.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

It was all he heard before he landed on his backside, painfully. He knew Bakura was kinky, but not like this.

Hey wait a second.

"We are not together yet?" he demanded, incredulously. Bakura growled at him.

"No shit," he snarled, "Ra, I'm going to pour bleach into my mouth..." It was then that he remembered it wasn't even his body. "Beh," he muttered, "I'll just let my host take it." With that, he forced Ryou control.

"What...is this...taste?" the totally poor innocent boy wondered out loud, licking his lips. It was a rather nice taste.

"Why hello, little one," a voice purred. Ryou looked up.

"Marik?" he identified intelligently upon the sight of a unhinged, psychotic grin. The personality in question was touched. He felt LOVED, like he never had before!

"Yes, dear, it is I!" he exclaimed, feeling so very happy. He was so happy he could kiss the boy, so he did. Ryou squeaked. Marik didn't know what it meant, so he continued kissing. What was that? Oxygen? But the great Marik is in a kiss! Who the hell needs to breathe, anyways?

Sadly, they both needed to, so when Ryou went slack in the embrace, so did Marik. Their respective others awoke in their place.

Bakura's eyes snapped open.

Malik slowly blinked open his own.

"..."

"..."

"Did," Malik started, hesitating, "did we..."

Bakura clutched his head in mental agony. "Oh Ra _no_," he groaned, which Malik found extremely sexy. Both were panting hard, trying to get oxygen back into their lungs.

Despite feeling like he wanted to faint, Malik grinned like he never had before. "Oh my god," he breathed in wonder, "we _did _make out!" He looked over at Bakura, who was still shaking his head in what they believed to be denial. Malik touched his lips dreamily, giggling at the taste. He stood up.

_I...I'm not __sore_ He realized, then looked over at the other once again. Said other was still on the floor, looking sick.

"Oh," he said, breath caught in his throat, "I was _seme_!"

Bakura gaped at him from beneath, and stood up, swaying. Damn Ryou's body and its inability to consume oxygen properly! "You _wish_," he growled, trying not to slump against the wall that seemed very tempting. Malik rushed over to him, attempting to help him stand strait.

"Don't, my love!" he cried dramatically. "You're already hurt and sore, don't tear yourself further!"

"_What,_" Bakura demanded, "I'll show you hurt and sore!"

Malik looked up with complete love and hope in his eyes. He hadn't been there for the love making the first time, but now he would be the one to experience it, first hand. It was so exciting! His deep, deep orbs lit up. Though Bakura could only see purple, he had a feeling Malik had twisted his words yet again.

He fumed, then jumped.

Malik cried in joy.

-

When Malik arrived home that night, he was tired, broken, and sore, though not in the way he would've liked. It turned out that they haven't made out after all.

"Don't cry, Malik," he said to himself, "Bakura's heart is just too tough to melt! You've tried so hard." He gave himself a pat on the back. When he snuggled under the covers, a determined fire lit his eyes.

_Too tough _ Malik reminded himself.

_There is always tomorrow._

-

Ryou sneezed.

* * *

That was unnecessarily long. Review, because you know you want to flame me. Click that button...it's only a few seconds gone from your life...

:D


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